Yellow Rose Mysteries 02 - A Wedding to Die For by Leann Sweeney Page B
Authors: Leann Sweeney
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Graham like he’d brought in a keg of dynamite.
“ We may not, but I do,” he answered. “They charge five dollars for one beer at the damn hotel, and I bought this whole case for ten bucks.”
He carried his treasure chest over to the refrigerator.
“Will you excuse me, Abby?” Sylvia said. “I have to see if Megan is ready to head for Galveston.”
She hurried out of the kitchen and down the hall, leaving me to deal with her brother-in-law.
After Graham stacked as many beers as he could in the already overloaded refrigerator, he grabbed two sausage kolaches and joined me at the table. Somewhere upstairs, a radio or stereo blared, heavy metal music now our muted background noise.
Graham looked up at the ceiling. “Christ, I’m glad Courtney’s staying here and not with me.” The whites of his eyes were bloodshot, and his breath smelled like the beer he’d probably had on his way here.
“Um, Sylvia tells me you’re from Dallas. Very different than Houston, huh?” I was hoping to move on to a safe, nonfamily related topic. Where the heck was Megan when I needed her?
“Both places are damn hot in the summer and damn ugly in the winter. But with your money, you probably take plenty of vacations when the weather turns nasty.” He chomped into a kolache.
I had no intention of talking to him about my private life, so I changed the subject. “You sure did come to the rescue the other day after your brother died,” I said. “I know Megan and Sylvia are grateful for your help.”
He cocked his head, squinted as if considering this. “My brother. Funny to hear you refer to him as my brother. He would have liked to forget, that’s for sure.” The little hitch in his voice added enough sadness to cancel out his attempt at sounding smug. He stood abruptly and walked over to the refrigerator, but rather than choose a beer as I would have expected, he started rummaging around for something else.
Thanks to our conversation at the reception, I’d already assumed Graham and his brother weren’t best buddies. If the bankruptcy had created bitterness between them, if they’d hardly spoken over the years, I could understand why Graham was staying in a hotel rather than here, even though this house could have handled plenty of guests. Chief Fielder would be wise to take a good long look at brother Graham.
I heard a small rustling sound and turned in the direction of the family room, where the string quartet had played during the reception. Megan held up a sheet of paper with the words Meet me at the Kroger parking lot in fifteen minutes printed in black marker. She disappeared an instant before her uncle turned around holding a carton of orange juice.
I stood. “Good talking to you, Mr. Beadford, but I need to be going.”
“It’s Graham. James was the only Mr. Beadford in this family.”
“Okay, Graham it is,” I said. “I’ll probably see you at the funeral.”
“Right,” he said distractedly, opening one cupboard after another, now apparently looking for a glass.
I slipped out the back door and felt my tight neck muscles ease the minute I started down the wooden deck stairs. Even today’s dreary weather seemed brighter than that house of gloom.
From where I’d parked at the Kroger lot on the main highway, I’d watched Travis barrel by with Sylvia in the passenger seat of his Ford Explorer ten minutes after I’d arrived. Megan pulled up alongside me shortly after. I quickly explained about my visit with Sister Nell and what a new copy of her birth certificate might tell us.
We then made the trip to downtown Houston in separate cars and after we arrived at the Bureau of Vital Statistics near Reliant Stadium, we received visitor badges from security. Megan and I waited in line to make her application, and once she’d turned in her paperwork, we sat on one of the long wooden benches in the center of the waiting area. Nothing happened in a hurry in places like this. We’d be here
“ We may not, but I do,” he answered. “They charge five dollars for one beer at the damn hotel, and I bought this whole case for ten bucks.”
He carried his treasure chest over to the refrigerator.
“Will you excuse me, Abby?” Sylvia said. “I have to see if Megan is ready to head for Galveston.”
She hurried out of the kitchen and down the hall, leaving me to deal with her brother-in-law.
After Graham stacked as many beers as he could in the already overloaded refrigerator, he grabbed two sausage kolaches and joined me at the table. Somewhere upstairs, a radio or stereo blared, heavy metal music now our muted background noise.
Graham looked up at the ceiling. “Christ, I’m glad Courtney’s staying here and not with me.” The whites of his eyes were bloodshot, and his breath smelled like the beer he’d probably had on his way here.
“Um, Sylvia tells me you’re from Dallas. Very different than Houston, huh?” I was hoping to move on to a safe, nonfamily related topic. Where the heck was Megan when I needed her?
“Both places are damn hot in the summer and damn ugly in the winter. But with your money, you probably take plenty of vacations when the weather turns nasty.” He chomped into a kolache.
I had no intention of talking to him about my private life, so I changed the subject. “You sure did come to the rescue the other day after your brother died,” I said. “I know Megan and Sylvia are grateful for your help.”
He cocked his head, squinted as if considering this. “My brother. Funny to hear you refer to him as my brother. He would have liked to forget, that’s for sure.” The little hitch in his voice added enough sadness to cancel out his attempt at sounding smug. He stood abruptly and walked over to the refrigerator, but rather than choose a beer as I would have expected, he started rummaging around for something else.
Thanks to our conversation at the reception, I’d already assumed Graham and his brother weren’t best buddies. If the bankruptcy had created bitterness between them, if they’d hardly spoken over the years, I could understand why Graham was staying in a hotel rather than here, even though this house could have handled plenty of guests. Chief Fielder would be wise to take a good long look at brother Graham.
I heard a small rustling sound and turned in the direction of the family room, where the string quartet had played during the reception. Megan held up a sheet of paper with the words Meet me at the Kroger parking lot in fifteen minutes printed in black marker. She disappeared an instant before her uncle turned around holding a carton of orange juice.
I stood. “Good talking to you, Mr. Beadford, but I need to be going.”
“It’s Graham. James was the only Mr. Beadford in this family.”
“Okay, Graham it is,” I said. “I’ll probably see you at the funeral.”
“Right,” he said distractedly, opening one cupboard after another, now apparently looking for a glass.
I slipped out the back door and felt my tight neck muscles ease the minute I started down the wooden deck stairs. Even today’s dreary weather seemed brighter than that house of gloom.
From where I’d parked at the Kroger lot on the main highway, I’d watched Travis barrel by with Sylvia in the passenger seat of his Ford Explorer ten minutes after I’d arrived. Megan pulled up alongside me shortly after. I quickly explained about my visit with Sister Nell and what a new copy of her birth certificate might tell us.
We then made the trip to downtown Houston in separate cars and after we arrived at the Bureau of Vital Statistics near Reliant Stadium, we received visitor badges from security. Megan and I waited in line to make her application, and once she’d turned in her paperwork, we sat on one of the long wooden benches in the center of the waiting area. Nothing happened in a hurry in places like this. We’d be here
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